


what if-

by nutzone



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Denial, Dreams, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Sexual Fantasy, Thorin being an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutzone/pseuds/nutzone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin dreamt, at  night, when nobody could judge him. </p><p>Dreams are dangerous, he knew.</p><p>He just couldn't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what if-

All those times, Thorin could not help but think.

What if.

Whenever the small one looked at him, there was something in his gaze, Thorin thought. There was something in those large, green eyes that he so often dreamt about.

And oh, did he dream.

At night he dreamt, when nobody was to see him and nobody was to judge him.

If eyes met, he would dream about a gorgeous sight. The Small one would be seated on top of him and slowly, so slowly, he would remove his shirt. Creamy, tantalizing skin would be exposed, just for Thorin to see. The shirt would fall from his shoulders, and he would be naked before his King.

If their hands had brushed ever so slightly as the small one handed him a bowl, he would dream about touch. Endless curves of softness, all for him to feel. He would run his hands over supple flesh, and oh, how he wanted.

If the small one licked his lips towards him, he would dream about taste. Biting, kissing, licking, sucking. A small body spread on sheets. He would kiss every inch of it. He would treat it as the most exquisite treasure. It would squirm under his attentions, no doubt, embarrassed by its own reactions. But Mahal, it would enjoy it.

If a word was exchanged between them, an innocent word… If such a word, that held a hidden invitation, was exchanged, Thorin would dream that which must not be spoken about. Like a savage, he would take. It would be freely given, and he would take and give pleasure in equal amounts. It would be rough, unadulterated passion.

By Durin, how he dreamt.

Alas, when the morning light reached him, he played the part of a blind man. When he looked at his company and gave them orders to follow, he would pretend that when he touched himself at night, he didn’t think of the small one. When their eyes met, he would pretend that he wasn’t bursting with want. He would pretend that he was blind to the looks, deaf to the words, numb to the touches. He would pretend his heart wasn’t breaking.

But he couldn’t help but think; what if he didn’t. What if, instead of simply playing his part as a King, he gave in to the yearning? Thoughts like that were dangerous, Thorin knew, and they were the most tempting.

What if the Hobbit wanted the same?

What if, after they had reclaimed Erebor, the Hobbit would stay?

What if they could grow old together?

Images sometime followed the unbidden thoughts.

Images of a content Hobbit sitting in a couch by a fireplace. The Hobbit would smile fondly as the King would kiss his forehead, and sit in the couch opposite him. They would watch the glowing embers, their hearts as joined, as were their hands.

Thorin had never considered himself a coward before, and yet he fled. Hid away and played his one-man game of pretend.

His life was to be a too short one, he would soon discovered. As he lay on his deathbed, the Hobbit’s eyes red and glossy, he would think to himself:

What if.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thorin no.


End file.
